Snape's Second Chance
by Mary Barrett
Summary: Severus Snape survives Nagini's attack at the end of DH, and develops a close friendship/bond with Harry Potter, much against his own expectations, and as the aftermath of the war brings healing for both Snape and Harry. Told through the perspective of multiple main characters as Snape gets a second chance at life. No slash, just family.
1. Chapter 1

Snape's POV

I was not a person who had ever been particularly afraid of death, because in all honesty how could I be? It never meant anything much. A human being had become a corpse- something that was, was not anymore. Death was the simple act of not breathing of passing between worlds. There was no reason to be scared. I had not expected it, to put it mildly. Since Lily was gone I did not mind it.

Except.

The boy.

He had incredibly untidy jet-black hair which I had only managed to see from the back over a year ago before I had left, and again six months ago in the middle of the black night as he followed a softly shimmering doe-mine. It seemed to make the crisp air feel warmer as I hid behind the steel trees. Serving the Dark Lord was supposed to mean life and not death- thriving. Thwarting your enemies, leaving behind the place where you did not belong.

I learned the truth a while ago. She still occupied my waking thoughts, pushing her way in when I would let her, which was oftener than I would like. Her smile had the uncanny ability to melt and pierce me at the same time Sha had been stolen. But her son- I knew she would want me to protect her son. I could not. The room seemed to close in on me as I realized what was about to happen and the serpent's fangs sank into me my scream was not particularly loud but it was sustained like a broken ripped-up accordion.

I was deflating. The Elder Wand- of all things. I knew, though, that the Dark Lord only needed to believe everything he had ever sought, undefeatable. Black. Could the most evil wizard of all time be defeated by a seventeen-year-old boy? I thought I might be worth a shot. As I sunk against the wall feeling nothing except death's putrid, penetrating odor- actually something like bitter, burned coffee- I cursed myself for not finding Harry Potter sooner. Dumbledore's words had been echoing hollow in my ears for the entirety of the atrocious, miserable night- "Tell Harry!"- and it seemed I could not even do that.

But miracle of miracles there he is, coming from nowhere, as seemingly unafraid of death as I am.

And I hate that.

Desperately I clutch the hem of his robe like a lifeline, a baited fish, and pull him to me. He must understand no matter what eth cost. He looks startled and a little surprised and I find myself getting impatient when this registers in his expression. There is no time, stupid boy! Listen-

And it is all flooding back, now.

A girl whose hair was on fire, swinging higher and higher, watched only by myself (unbeknownst to her) and her impish, pinch-faced sister. Lily, in every sense of the word a pristine, beautiful white flower, untouched and unblemished until she came in to contact with me. It was wrong to say I had lost her when I never had her, but how else to describe it? Her death was the only would I could not heal from. It had tasted vile. How I had tried so hard to make it up to her by protecting her last remnant and ultimately failing in the long run. All because of Albus Dumbledore and his messed-up plans. Never until that moment had I doubted he cared for the child. Nothing could compare to how used and cheated I felt, how- simply put- angry and livid I was.

Not that this made it any easier, killing him.

Once again death's keen sting engulfed me and it always knew just where to strike to make the blow that much worse. I had tried so hard to turn from former ways and here I was having to embrace them once more. And against Dumbledore, of all people. But anything for the war. The loneliness did not bother me much- I still had Dumbledore's portrait, after all- but Potter's shouts and the mocking and jeering and taunting of members of the Light was impossible to endure, like being cut over and over with a knife set aflame, to harden the blows.

They could not know it of course- but how I had wanted them to! How I had wanted to scream that the last thing I wanted to do was kill anybody. Damn Dumbledore. I hope you are happy. And even after all that, being forced to give the Dark Lord the correct date of Potter's escape so as not to arouse suspicion while simultaneously and ironically ensuring his safety by Confunding Mundungus Fletcher, a little thief the Order trusted for some reason. My cover nearly being blown by that wolf-'Be sure to act you part convincingly'- and my Secumsempra missing spectacularly. I could not even hit that death Eater's hand.

Then the sword. Even in death Dumbledore did not tell me everything, which was more than slightly irritating, but I did what was asked of me anyway. Just make sure Potter gets it! And don't let him see you. He had nearly not come out of the lake again and I had never been so grateful for a Weasley. I do not like to think what would have happened should it have been necessary to reveal myself then. And what has it all been for? I do not know if after all this the Dark Lord will be gone completely. I have still failed Lily massively, again. Here was her son.

How clearly I see it all, how vividly it all slices through me. It has never until this moment been so overwhelming and before seem to have broken the surface, likely not able to hold still in my mind which is roaming everywhere. Their texture is slightly off and on my tongue they are numbing and bland. Funny, would not have guessed that. I know instantly what the boy must do.

"Take it… take it…"

My voice is unusually raspy and hoarse and it is a struggle to make any sound at all. Before he can wrap his brain around this, however, Granger has already shoved a vial into his hands. Inwardly I am pleading with him to disobey me just this once, for his own survival. Has that not what this has all been for? Is that not what I promised oh, so long ago in the very office where I spent the remaining year of my miserable, tainted existence? Defeat is crushing. This has all been for nothing and it has all come to this. This moment in a little ransacked shack no more than dimly lit and still covered in filthy dust. Certainly not how I imagined it. Certainly not how it should be.

"Take it to the Pensieve." I cannot stop myself, it has to be this way. Damn. Who would have thought, the one destined to save the wizarding world in reality destined for death, the Boy-Who-Lived living to the ripe old age of twenty. Granted, life never offered him much more than his childish antics. I wish it wasn't this way but it must be. Then the Dark Lord can die too. But is that worth this? My mind is swimming, racing a hundred different directions. I cannot tell. It does not matter. I am too late to change to anything- there is nothing I can do and the time for that has long passed. When I was younger I did not ever give much thought to death, but it should have happened many years ago. It almost did, and in this very place.

How fitting. I never belonged to life, and… neither did Potter. Honestly. Somehow I find the strength to croak out one harsh, waspish, cold whisper-

"Look- at- me-"

He has her eyes. He has her eyes and I have always known it. But never have I gotten so lost, swallowed up in the emerald green, shining like crystals. Broken ones. So much sharp pain I see there where I should see none. Oh, Lily's child. Lily, who I lived and breath for, am dying for. You deserved a better friend than me. I am staring into her eyes and going back a thousand years. Hearing her laugh, seeing her smile. None of it was enough.

I failed her. Death wraps her arms around me coldly, and I find myself very reluctant.


	2. Chapter 2

II. Albus Dumbledore's POV

No, it was too soon. Far too soon, and I could never allow that. I did not think I would see them both in one night. Did not mean for it. Severus has always been particularly strong, and so to see him standing there really threw me for a loop. I had been watching it all, of course, but that did not seem to make it any easier. In fact it only served to make it worse.

"This has been a terrible mistake," I told him firmly. Just like Harry, Severus was clearly confused, as if they not quite figure out the warmth of the place. That was because it was not time for him- either of them- to come here yet.

"Dumbledore? What in Merlin's name-" He cut himself off and I sighed sharply. Obviously I was the last person he expected… or wanted… to see.

"Walk with me, my boy." He did not hesitate and I was glad. Bewildered, no doubt, by the dazzling radiance King's Cross Station could not be on Earth. It did not suit him; he was so out of place in his curt black garb, just the kind he had always worn. This had surely left him a bit frazzled. "Severus, this has all been a terrible accident. A misunderstanding, if you will."

"Explain. Explain all of this." Ah yes, the gruff Slytherin personality which always demanded and desired I be blunt and get to the point. It could come in rather useful.

"You see, I have sent Fawkes to you. Phoenix tears carry an antidote for poison, you know, and you have shown me- and always have- no less than extreme loyalty."

"Does this mean- does this mean that I am not actually dead?"

"As usual you have surmised correctly. You are still rather young and there is much life to be lived yet." Severus raised an eyebrow in intense skepticism and I could not blame him. It did seem rather unbelievable, and I'm sure I would have the same reaction.

"And what, pray tell, would be gained by going back? They all still think I actually wanted to kill you-"

"Do you honestly believe Harry would let them labour under that false assumption? Indeed, he is very grateful for all you have done."

"What are you talking about? It was your plan, was it not, Headmaster, that caused this whole mess? And you yourself who told me that the boy had to die. There is nothing left for me but dire failing." So it was going to be that type of conversation. Severus could be quite stubborn at times- when he wanted to be- and he had even now crossed his arms over his chest in agitation. I sighed again.

"Yes, again you are right. Though you must not call me that anymore, as you are still the Headmaster, Severus. It is true I have already seen Harry once tonight." My true, genuine smile was returned with a vehement scowl, but this had never deterred me in the least.

"I swear, old man, you never made the least bit of sense. What are you saying? What has happened? Be clear." Here my smile grew ever wider, which only managed to irritate him further.

"There was something I did not count on. On the night of Lord Voldemort's return he made the arrogant, rash decision to use Harry's blood, which brought about his own destruction."

"I don't see what this has to do with anything. Is the Dark Lord gone? Is Potter alive or not?" The many hardships and trials of the past year made his concern and his irritation more evident than usual, as if it weren't bad enough already. This was really exhausting.

"Perhaps I would be better able to tell you if you would kindly quit interrupting. Thank you. As I was saying, Harry was everything we needed him to be- brave and selfless. I am so proud of him, as well you should be. He sacrificed himself for the good of others around him without giving a thought for himself."

"If you were not already dead I would have no problem killing you again."

"And he survived. I refuse to believe you meant that. The entire point of that was that he is alive and needs you still. He has lost so much tonight- the cost of true heroism- and in the midst of so much destruction he needs a light. I will give you back to him, for both of you, so that you can heal together."

Just as I feared. It sounded foreign to him. I could not help but sigh again. "What of Lily?"

"She is not the one whose soul groans with the agony of heavy loss- your loss. Her son is cry8ing out for you. For once listen to him!" The change in his features, that simple shift of expression, is not something I shall soon forget- nor would I want to. He listens intently for a moment and grows pained with the overwhelming grief that reaches him. He hears what I do.

"Wake up! Wake up, please! I'm sorry!" The sobs accompanying Harry's soft voice are the worst of all. I can tell Severus knows this. Besides, he would never disobey me. That's not him.

"Dumbledore? How do I-" I continue to grin wildly.

"All you have to do, my boy, is catch the next train. This is King's Cross, though I see you've figured it out. Well, good luck, Severus Snape."

He nods and is soon gone. I always knew that he truly cared for the boy.


	3. Chapter 3

II. Harry's POV

It was over. It had been a long day- a long year- a long life, a long war. And it was over.

Finally.

Though I had seen it with my own eyes, I had a hard time believing Voldemort was truly dead. He had eluded death for so long it seemed impossible. I ached with the heaviness of it, and could not help but touch my scar once or twice. It would never hurt me again. Impossible. Hadn't it always since he came back? After all the fighting would it end so quickly? He had always found some other way to come back. But I had seen his corpse. I should be glad- shouldn't I?

Shouldn't I?

No, I could not be- there was no way I could be. Too many had died, all so much braver than I was. People who had shaped me, been around my whole life. Hogwarts would never be the same. Lupin- Lupin- well, I still had his precious son. My Godson Teddy. I would take care of him as my own. Never had I been so thankful, so glad that I had made things right with him. Though with others I was not so fortunate. I tried not to think about it just now. Any of it. All I could do was honor them the best I could, remember them. It all seemed so startlingly close.

I was hit with the brute force of it and could do no more than take gasping breaths. It would be a while before I recovered, could sort it out and make sense of it all. So many lost. I wished I could not feel; I could not sympathize with the Weasleys as it was. I never had a brother, would never be George, living my whole life without- At least he was with them, and Tonks rested with Lupin. It seemed only right. She had loved him as much as Snape loved my mother… enough to change her Patronus. That was powerful stuff. Professor McGonagall had told me that she would go back for Professor Snape's body and bring it to the Great Hall with the others. I only thanked her, being too weak- or too tired- to say more.

Though sleep would bring nightmares and I would try to avoid it as long as possible, nothing new, I didn't exactly want to be alone with my thoughts either. But downstairs the chaos was sure to be more than I could handle; I'd had enough of insanity and wanted to stay away from glowing admirers too. I felt trapped inside myself and out. Only for a little while, I breathed; only for a little while. There was no one else in Gryffindor Tower and certainly not in my dormitory, and maybe that was why the soft rap on my door nearly made me jump out of my skin.

"Professor McGonagall!" I should have known. Who else would it be, really? "I'm sure you're tired and could use some rest. We all could," I tried, but she did not hear me. On the verge of tears, she – who had already been through hell tonight- was close to breaking down. That was something I did not care to see. Worry joined that sickening lead weight; if something were truly wrong, though, she would be close to frantic.

"What you said earlier, about… a-about Severus, it was true!"

"Of course it was-"

"This proves it. Fawkes was called to him. He was loyal." All of this did not take more of a split second to register in my overworked brain. Fawkes, a phoenix with magical healing tears who saved me in the Chamber of Secrets… from poison from a snake… all because I was fiercely loyal to Dumbledore. This could only mean one thing.

"He's alive-" Somehow she managed to give me a real, true smile, one that meant I could not doubt her.

"We have admittance into the Hospital Wing."

I had no idea how I could walk so fast. When Sirius died it took me forever to get over my denial. I didn't believe he was gone because I did not want to. Now it was the opposite. There was no doubt that Snape was dead; I had witnessed it, Voldemort said himself he had killed him. Nothing to it. I did not believe McGonagall, though all of me wanted to.

"How bad is he?" I asked Madam Pomfrey. Much of Hogwarts was rubble now, ruined totally and so destroyed that it would take all summer to repair, like the Hufflepuff's basement, the Entrance Hall… but the Hospital Wing was somehow spared. However, those hit by the worst curses had been dispatched to St. Mungo's. The school had cleared out much faster than expected. Madame Pomfrey, of course, remained. "Stable, even optimistic. Phoenix tears definitely did the job as far as blood poisoning goes, but he lost a lot of blood too. He needs to stay on a n IV for now, lots of potions and mends. But it looks good." Encouraging so far. Then she leaned in closer, making me nervous for a fleeting instant. Her voice dropped by about a hundred degrees.

"Oh, Harry, please tell me it's true…." She sounded as if she were about to cry, and a meek huff escaped her as I gave a curt nod. A real tear fell down her cheek as I slipped past her and into the wing. Rom and Hermione were already there, focused intently, and so I did not look at Snape at first. When I did, though, I did not gasp or notice anything inherently wrong, besides of course the IV-drip hooked to his arm. There was not even a bandage on his neck. It had been cleaned, obviously, but the bites themselves would be practically invisible. He was lucky; he could be sleeping.

I let out a breath, unaware I had been holding it to begin with. "I don't believe it," said Ron at last. He should not even be here. In spite of myself I gave a small smile.

"It's okay. Go and be with you family- they need you."

"So do you, mate. I wanted to stay here, and Mum's still helping clean up…" Nothing could mean more than their endless support. I was extremely fortunate to have them.

"You guys have been awesome through all this."

"We're always there for you, Harry. But how could we have been so incredibly wrong?" asked Hermione. Not once did my gaze leave the thin figure from the bed.

"I know. I can't tell you how thankful I am. And it's as simple as this: we weren't supposed to know." Neither said anything to this. It was over. Voldemort's reign of terror. Everything we were fighting for, we won. Just like that in the blink of an eye. Still unbelievable.

"I still don't understand," Ron went on. This made sense and did not make sense at the exact same time.

"He's the one that gave us the sword of Gryffindor. We could not have won without him. He should be here." Hermione was just shaking her head sadly. At least I knew she had already discerned that much from what I said about the Patronus but Rom appeared incredulous still.

"You won't see me much for the next two weeks. Lots to do at the Burrow." The rest went unsaid and I ached for him. I would be by their side in an instant if I weren't such an intrusion on something private and personal, and if I was not needed more here. There was nothing else to it. The Weasleys needed to grieve alone, together, in a single yet broken family unit. I could not handle it, could not be strong for them. I'd had my fill of sorrow for a while.

"And it looks like I have some memory modification to undo." Hermione was positively grinning and I felt so happy for her. She would get her parents back, and kids like us should be with their parents. I was thrilled for her. "So I'll be in Australia for a while, until we get it straightened out."

"Wonderful. I want to stay here, for a while. Guess we'll all be going our separate ways for a bit." I was still practically gaping at the sallow, still face, unmoving- he was here and he was not really here. The silence was pressing in on us, suffocating.

"It's only for a little while," sniffled Hermione., wrapping her arms around me like she would never see me again. Ron rolled his eyes and hugged us too. We promised to write.

"Take care, Harry," they chortled as they left, on their own adventures. Their presence had indeed been a comfort over the last year, and I associated it with stress and war and meticulous planning. It had been so long since we had just been friends, and we needed time apart to regroup. Besides, I needed to be alone to quiet my mind. Settle myself.

Hogwarts was not deserted until midday the next day, but it was much longer until all the corpses had been claimed and remains sorted through. There was an aura of death in the rebuilding of everything, cementing me in and catching me in its grip as things were built back up. I did not want to escape it; it was, familiar. I did not want to sleep for fear I would wake up and it would be a surreal dream, lest I get trapped again in a nightmare that turns out to be real life. I could not leave that hospital room; Snape did not yet know I was alive still. He could not wake up when I was gone. No, that would never do. Being there seemed to anchor me to the physical realm. He did not wake up, though. Every hour passed with the same result. Hours turned into days. It was like tending a coma patient. No movement, only the faint inkling that they could possibly hear you if you were trying hard enough.

I do not remember half of the things I said. Madame Pomfrey can tell you better than I. She was talking to myself. If I didn't know better I would have said Snape was Petrified. "If you did I cannot avenge you anymore," I would often growl evilly, though I knew he did not care about those things. It was not fair.

 _What had ever been fair?_

Had I received him back from death only to be deceived? Hagrid told me once that no one lived once Voldemort decided to kill you, except me. This made me angry. "Why are you doing this? Every day you beat him for sixteen year. You beat him. Are you really going to let him beat you now?" Luna Lovegood (sent by the teachers to check on me) told me I sounded simply horrible, that I said such awful things. I told her I meant them.

My fury dissolved into shaking, collapsible worry. Every day Luna left me fresh clothes and House-Elves brought me food. I did not let the greasy-haired figure out of my sight. He couldn't wake when I was not there. McGonagall sat with me most. _She_ told Snape that he owed her from their last Quidditch bet two years ago, and also that she missed him.


	4. Chapter 4

Albus Dumbledore's POV:

Being a portrait has never meant a very lively existence; oh, please do not think I am complaining. Travelling to the Ministry in my other frame who always an event, and I had plenty of visitors in the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts as well, though I felt the sting of Severus's absence. The most frequent of which, after Voldemort's defeat, was a timid and intelligent Ravenclaw by the name of Luna Lovegood. She gave me reports on all of the latest happenings. Most of the damage had been repaired by the end of the first week, with so many working on it using a series of complex enchantments. This I was extremely grateful for.

Harry, she said, refused to leave Severus even for a moment. Luna was growing very concerned. The Healers had said his brain activity was functioning just fine, but that the trauma from the attack had been severe. They were in deep water, and feared his systems may begin to shut down if they could not drag him out of it. Harry was completely wrecked by the stress of everything but Luna's attempts to get him checked over were unsuccessful. I had never seen this calm girl so downtrodden and sad. She said that she could not stay to watch over Harry much longer but was going home to be with her new father. I replied that she need not fret, because Severus would come back to them.

"How do you know?" she had asked. I merely chuckled.

"I would not have sent Fawkes at all if it were in vain. You would do well to remind Harry of that." The road to recovery would indeed be long and hard, and I expected no less. Severus was very stubborn. He would not remember our little chat; I had made sure of it. The pretty blue-eyed girl gave me a pearly smile. I wish they could all be happy again. Luna then asked me to verify all Harry had told her. That was only natural. But though hard to believe, it was easy to see how Severus had been trying to help them all along; even though he had been Headmaster during a brutal and monstrous time, once explanations were made the truth was undeniable. I was not at all offended by her asking- in fact, it showed character, in that she did not blindly accept things as fact. I understood perfectly.

"I do hope he comes back," she sniffled. Such a sweet girl. "If only so that Harry doesn't go crazy." I returned her smile.

"I know what you mean. The poor boy has been through a lot. Perhaps you can aid in the Headmaster's recovery. People in comas can hear, and I do not doubt you all have been chattering incessantly. Try something that will make him _want_ to overcome it, something familiar. Do not plead; he would not like that; simply find something that will stick and catch in his mind. You might suggest this to Harry. It will certainly be more effective than blather that means nothing. It's worth a shot."

"You mean, something that peaks his interest?" You could practically see the wheels in her Ravenclaw brain turning, hand rubbing her chin in concentration. The office was dim, my old gadgets still strewn about. I did not like it so dark, but Minerva had yet to set up in here. The Pensieve still lay on the desk.

"Of course. Harry will have some ideas. You don't need to worry about it, Luna. His condition is indeed very serious, but that does not mean much."

"It's already been a week," she frowned.

"Don't lose hope. Go home and enjoy time with your father." Continuing to pace around the room without looking up, she affirmed that she would do this and would talk to Harry. She read a bit from _The Quibbler_ before leaving, blonde hair sweeping behind her.

I was joined in a bit by Professor McGonagall, who was eager for me to tell her all I had overheard in my other frame at the Ministry. Naturally she had been far too preoccupied to visit herself. Kingsley was doing quite well as Minister, of course (I expected no less) and the Wizarding World was rejoicing. There were loud parties and celebrations each night, and just as when Lord Voldemort was defeated the first time she went on fussing about how we would achieve victory only to be discovered by the Muggles. I told her to join the fun and embrace it. Minerva then proceeded to badger me, echoing Luna's fears for Harry's health and sanity…. and Severus's.

"Why did you never tell me? I understand why you could not ever tell Potter. His mind might have been read by the Dark Lord, everything revealed… but I might have helped him! Maybe he would not have been alone."

"My dear Minerva, there is no guarantee your mind would not be violated in this manner. Everyone needed to believe his guilt completely; else it would not have worked. He would not have been able to do what he needed to. I pray you forgive me." She huffed and I wondered why I had been unprepared for such a barrage, from so fierce a lioness.

"I am moving in when Severus wakes up and not sooner. It does not feel right…"

"He is lucky to have such a friend in you. That is perfectly acceptable." She disappeared and I returned to my portrait in the Ministry.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days passed much the same as all the others. I gave Severus a blood replenishing and nutrient stabilizing potions, but no pain reliever because they could be addictive and he was unconscious anyway. His brain waves and activity were continuously stable and his heart rate was not fluctuating, blessedly. If he did not snap out of it soon he never would. I often got choked up watching Harry, poor thing, hang his head as he sat on the stool muttering. The things he said made me want to cry.

"I understand what you meant now, about weak people wearing their hearts of their sleeves. I get it but I still don't agree. You're not a weak person, but it wasn't because you hid everything. It was because of what hiding everything enabled you to do. I get it now."

The boy never moved. Soft tears fell down his cheeks so that they glistened. Many, many cards and flowers arrived, but Harry would not allow any of them to stay with a simple, "Severus Snape would not _want_ flowers, come on. Don't be ridiculous." Still, though, he kept by the bed a vase of lilies. When I asked why, he said, "He'll know." Meanwhile the stack of cards continued to grow enormous. I smiled upon seeing this, and continued to tend the sickly man frozen in bed. I felt myself gulp. How many times had I healed him in his Hogwarts days? He used to get mighty scraped up, too, for someone who hated Quidditch. And as a Professor, he rarely came back from Death Eater meetings unscathed. All my patients were like my children. How was I supposed to tell harry? That there was nothing more I could do? Nothing was working, we had failed.

"You have to keep trying," he urged. "If it was me he would never have given up." The child's stamina and attitude impressed me; he had much strength. At that moment Luna Lovegood burst in, precious girl.

"Harry! You'll never believe what I just heard from Dumbledore's portrait! You need to make want to wake up; what you say isn't registering in his brain. Something stronger, maybe? Like-"

"Oh, I have it! Luna, can you go up to the old Room of Requirement for me? Grab an old copy of Advanced Potions Making, one that belongs to the Half-Blood Prince. You'll find it on the left side…" She scurried off. Honestly I had better things to do than ask Harry Potter about a Half-Blood Prince- what utter nonsense!- but in hindsight perhaps I should have. Maybe then I would have stayed a bit longer, and gotten to witness the remarkable event which happened then.

A/N: I promise he will wake up next chapter! I'm so, so sorry for the delay...


	6. Chapter 6

Snape's POV

I could not feel anything. I could not see, either. Everything was black and numb- cold, really. I did not know what to think about this. It was so comfortable and even a bit relaxing after the hell the war had been. For a long time I could not hear anything. There was just me, and just now; nothing else. But then I heard something, a voice. It seemed to take quite a while for it to reach me, as if yelling in a windstorm. As if they were straining, trying with all their might.

"Crush with a blade, don't cut. Stir counterclockwise three times for every seven times you stir clockwise. It should come out a nice teal…" Now, how would they know that? This was strange, but it got my attention. "Add two cups, not three. Wait seven seconds, pour in gradually.

Then another voice joined in, this a female one.

"It isn't working, Harry. I'm so sorry. But you've been at it for days. If this didn't do it nothing will."

"Maybe he has nargles in his ears, Madame Pomfrey," said another more girlish voice I almost recognized but could not. What? What was this? I remembered dying- that _snake,_ and Potter- seeing Lily, Lily's eyes=

Lily's _son-_

No, Lily's son was dead, and so was I. But those voices certainly sounded alive. What had happened?

"I don't understand. The phoenix tears- and- _and-_ what did we do wrong?" That was definitely Potter.

 _Potter._

Potter, alive- "Nothing, dear. Luna, why don't we give them a moment? We really did everything we could." That was Poppy. What in the world were they talking about and why were they so upset? It was clear. If they were alive and I could hear them, then I must be as well. There I took a moment to process all of this. Phoenix tears meant Fawkes. Fawkes meant Dumbledore. So he had been looking out for me after all. I almost wish he would not have been; I had failed, had I not? That regret, that heaviness, was much more than I could ever live with. But the boy was there, he was speaking…

"I'm sorry I could not do more. Why do you have to be so stubborn? Anyway, I guess I just wanted to say thank you. I know none of it was for me, but the lengths you went to for her… I think that was pretty amazing. And that she would have forgiven you. And that I wish you knew all of that, and I could tell you for real. Well, goodbye, Professor Snape."

"Do not dare leave." I had finally managed to open my heavily- lidded eyes, with effort, and a pale teenager with messy black hair stood there looking startled. He gasped I almost did. Dumbledore had been so sure. There was never any doubt. And yet, I had never been so glad to see James Potter's double. He was not supposed to be here. Dumbledore had explained it. There was no way to destroy the part of the Dark Lord's soul in Potter without destroying Potter. If I had known there was…

But Dumbledore could not be wrong. He rarely was, and yet- Harry Potter smiled, a smile which soon turned in to a wide grin. "Voldemort is gone, Snape. Annihilated, completely and totally. Never, ever coming back. Done for-"

" _How is it possible?"_ None of it was, it could not be. The Hospital Wing was bright, and otherwise empty. I quickly discerned that I was in a hospital gown- which felt quite strange, in truth. It all did, it was all so insane. And happening eerily fast.

"He took my blood. So when I let him kill me… Well…" Potter shrugged, being all nonchalance about it. And here I thought he would be basking in the glory of heroism. He bloody defeated the Dark Lord! Well, I was just glad he was alive. Glad, and shocked. "Maybe we could talk ab out this later. I know you must still be exhausted."

"Good idea." I was tired, immeasurably so. He must have seen it written all over me.

"Just don't scare me like that again," he whispered, and I had to wonder why it mattered, suddenly. He knew now that my actions inadvertently led to the deaths of James and Lily. Why would he care? But his voice trembled led as he said it, alleviating any and all doubt. I felt my shuddering breaths return to me.

Alive- there was the boy marked for death, marked for death because of me, alive, when he had almost died because of me on more than one occasion. His parents _had_ died because of me. That alone was hard enough to bear. But then- in the pond- Potter had almost drowned because of your determination to follow Dumbledore's orders, I admonished myself. And if the Dark Lord had not made a mistake and Potter had taken my memories- then what? He would be dead, but I would still be here among the living, those who longed to join the league of the dead. What reception would I have gotten from Potter, if we had met then…

 _Then,_ instead of now? How could I have lived with myself in the meantime? But I knew the answer. I could not have. In the last year I thought I had come to grips with him dying, but then… when I thought it had actually happened….

I closed my eyes again, the phoenix song still playing in my head, and it brought with it a comforting feeling, the likes of which I had not felt since being held by the living corpse with a gray beard. Then, like now, I was crying, but he'd consoled me as a father did a son. That was the first time Albus told me he loved me.

It was the night he died.

A/N: I apologize for the delay! It was some work getting this one up. Thanks for bearing with me.


	7. Chapter 7

Professor McGonagall's POV

To say that things have been crazy since the war ended would be the greatest understatement made in human history. Besides all of the reconstruction going on at Hogwarts, and the huge push to make the school fit for students by September and Kingsley's takeover as the new Minister of Magic, there was the rather booming Hospital Wing. St. Mungo's had sent some of their most skilled Healers for those not healthy enough to be transferred to the hospital itself. I was most pleased to find this number lessening daily as many were dismissed with a clean bill of health and left to live their lives to the fullest. I was also pleased to say that there had been strangely few casualties there, as most brave warriors had died in the battle itself or in the aftermath of the following hours.

One, however, showed no sign of being dismissed- nor even regaining consciousness. Severus's worsening condition had been a blight upon us all, especially Harry, but I refused to believe that it would end like this. Surely this could not be what Providence had in store, after all he had suffered.

But one fateful day, Poppy joined me in my office and relayed the unhappy news. They were out of options, and would not stand for keeping the Headmaster alive in such a horrid, vegetative state, alive but not living. Harry was just now saying goodbye and she bid me to do so as well. Having been left once again to the privacy of my own thoughts, I burst into yet fresh tears, completely disregarding the wet blotches forming on my copy of Snake Attacks Through History: Extreme Survival Stories, by Percival McGilliwin. I was internally stretched every which way possible, and it was now I reached my breaking point.

So distraught was I that I was completely oblivious to the fact that Kreacher the House-Elf had just Apparated into my office. "Professor McGonagall, Kreacher comes to you with a strange tale, a strange tale indeed." It was at this point that I looked up, nodding glumly and yet again blowing my nose into a handkerchief.

"Go on, Kreacher." The Elf required little prodding.

"Kreacher was in the Hospital Wing, to tell Harry Potter to get his arse in bed as Professor McGonagall requested, when Kreacher was met with a curious sight! Harry Potter, talking to Headmaster Snape! The Headmaster is being awake, and, while tired, is being brought up to date by Harry Potter on all the recent-" Well, you can imagine how quickly I left my office and powered downstairs to the Infirmary, an array of papers spewing all about Kreacher as I did so. It was indeed as he said- there was Severus, awake and drinking me in with exhausted, dead black eyes, as if wondering what I was doing there, why my face showed no trace of the hatred and disgust it had been imbued with for the last year.

Guilt laced my heart. It was almost enough to bring me to tears yet again, undignified as it was. Harry, poor boy, sat next to his protector, beaming up at me. I knew it was too much to ask him to leave. There was nothing- nothing I could say and no words in the English language to convey my affection for these brave men. So I said nothing at all, and saw how little words were needed. With all of the care and gentleness I could muster, I changed the tiny bandage covering the puncture wound in his neck . The little amount of resistance he put up concerned me even more. I conjured a glass of ice cold water and slowly coaxed him into drinking steady sips. When this was done, I also took a stool by his bed and clasped his hand in mine, taking pains to smile so warmly it quite eliminated all need for the sun.

Then I spoke to him and said just three words: "I'm sorry, Severus."


	8. Chapter 8

Harry's POV

The next few days were slow, and, needless to say, agonizingly painful. So unexpected was the Headmaster's unexpected and- incredibly sudden- return to this realm, that many of the potions that would be need for blood-replenishing and more complicated nutrition potions, for instance- were not even on hand, resulting in the need for me and Hermione to spend many a sleepless night awake in the old Potions lab assisting Madame Pomphrey in her brewing.

But for this, no sacrifice would have been too much.

Progress came, it must be admitted; his voice, at first so raspy, so unsure and shaky, returned to its normal deep condescending tremor. He was able to sit up, and though holding conversations was difficult, due to the fact that he would regularly fall asleep in the middle of them, it was more than what we had before.

Getting him to eat was by far one of the most difficult challenges. At first, he did not have enough strength to protest much against some broth and a small bit of bread, but as we began to push more and more, and became more and more insistent, he became more and more obstinate.

"No!" he fussed petulantly one day, when I entered with a plate of meat, fruit, and toast that somehow Ron didn't believe could be enough to sustain a squirrel, let alone serve as breakfast for a recovering man- and yet it still seemed too much. He had crossed his arms over his chest in what was a very impressive impersonation of a three-year- old.

I sighed.

"You need to eat, Professor," I said wearily, setting down on the end of the bed and managing to wrinkle the impossibly straight-laced white sheets. His bottom lip protruded more than ever.

Part of me understood his aversion. It was very… sterile and clean in the Hospital Wing, almost as if Madame Pomphrey was going to barge in any moment to lecture you for disturbing some thing or another. The endless smell of potions did not do much to endear appetite, either, and the thought of the struggle of getting the food past his nearly-destroyed throat must have made the thought of eating nearly "intolerable," as he would have said. But now there was no choice, and I did not feel sorry.

He glared. "I am aware, Potter!"

No, I mused, I did not feel sorry at all. I set the tray on his lap. He sneered at it.

"These eggs won't bite, I promise," I managed. Oh, how I would have longed to have someone to force me to eat all those many years ago! I had learned to live with hunger, but imagining the feeling of someone who cared about me taking such an interest in my well-being would have been almost as welcome as the food.

And I did care about him, the days and weeks that had past proved that enough. I cared about this man who had bullied and belittled me from the day I stepped foot in his classroom, who had never wanted anything to do with me, and who had saved my life again, and again, and again…

His eyes flashed. The thought had crossed his mind too, I knew. A crossroads.

He moved a strand of hair from his face and became focused intently on the cold cup of tea on the wooden nightstand beside his bed, as if trying to burn a hole in it. After what I knew was a long and arduous argument against himself in his own mind, he, slowly but surely, picked up the fork. Long, thin fingers shaking, he moved a forkful to his mouth, unsure if he could swallow it down. A painful expression crossed his pale, sallow, face; and then, with yet another scowl, it was done.

It went on like this for quite some time.

He did not touch the toast, perhaps sickened by the thought of trying something so chewy. When he was done, I moved the tray on to the nightstand, and brushed yet another strand of matted, greasy dark hair from his face. I stayed a moment, just waiting in the quiet, the both of us needing me to stay here, and both of us wondering how long that it could last, this.

I would not learn for many years to come that my best friends had been watching this whole exchange from the doorway.

Author's Note:

Sorry it's been so long! I have no excuses for you beautiful people. But I'm back now!


End file.
